Chapter Text
“Hello? Oh- Fog FOG! DOORMAT! DO NOT COME INSIDE!” Skyler Stone watched in dismay as Fog Burns, laden with groceries, dripped in the vestibule.
It was a wet May morning in Hyperion, Washington. Rain was coming down in bathtubs, small rivers falling off people’s porch roofs. The downpour had started early in the morning, just missing Peter and Juno’s arrival at the antique store. Prior, the plan had been to go to the diner while Fog did their show at which Fog would meet them afterward.
Despite all of them being fairly smart people, they’d all forgotten Fog’s forecast of May Monsoon Season beginning and were now stuck inside as the Silimakeen wove its way down the street. The reason the plan had been to hit the diner was that between the two houses, neither had any groceries left to speak of. Juno, decent cook as he was, could only do so much with shredded coconut and orange peel. Fog, innovative and hardy as they were, could do nothing with turmeric and grape leaves. So Fog, ever willing to brave the elements and make a fool of themselves, volunteered to get some groceries. On foot. Because any vehicle on the now canals of Hyperion would surely hydroplane.
Through the window, Skyler could see water rushing down the street, five inches high. The mud, Skyler thought, was going to be horrendous later. Fog shook their head, spraying water everywhere with a grin full of mischief.
“A lil’ humid outside, ain’ it? Was like walkin’ through the Trinity. Got my boots brimmin’ with sky water!” Skyler heaved a sigh and looked to the ceiling, begging for mercy. Mercy came in the form of Peter Nureyev poking his head around the wall.
“What’s all this fuss- oh. Forecast delivered, I see.”
“I’ll say,” said Skyler. “Oh boy, Peter, could you please get that fool a towel?” Peter vanished back into the hall. In the hall lay a closet full of towels and other things, for anyone who came into the house in any state of being. Juno, coming from the kitchen with a cup of coffee, squeezed past his beau to survey the scene.
“Oh, wow. Damn pond in the doorway, that’s nice. It raining that hard outside?” Skyler rolled neir eyes and Fog laughed.
“Sure is! Water up to m’knees and zigzagging the whole way through! You shoulda seen, it’s loooon-attic out there!” Skyler was going to die.
“Fog, quit that. It’s lunatic, with a short ‘a’, not ‘loon-attic’.”
The offender shrugged. “Rhymes with mechanic.”
“Dangit, you-! Juno, take the groceries. Fog, leave your boots in the doorway, I don’t want them in here. Peter where’s-” Peter launched a towel over Skyler’s head to land bullseye on Fog’s. From under the towel came a small “oof”. Juno shook Fog’s arms until they let go of the groceries and took the bags to the kitchen.
“Alright! Wonderful. Boots outside, get dry.”
Fog would have, under ordinary circumstances, gone right back into the rain, but they had a show to do in ten minutes. The only thing left dry on them was their keister, so in their underoos and a towel, they went to broadcast. Skyler shook neir head, picked up the wet clothes, and went to put them on the edge of the bathtub to drip.
While Peter unloaded the rest of the groceries, Juno started breakfast. Fog had bought everything to make pancakes and a can of maraschino cherries. Juno raised an eyebrow and put on an apron.
“What the hell am I going to do with cherries?” he wondered. Peter, done with the groceries, leaned against the counter where Juno was.
“What can a person do with cherries, I wonder… Hm… I put away some grapefruit so… Oh no.” Juno looked at him, concerned. “Someone is going to broil grapefruit.” Juno snorted and added milk to the flour in a bowl.
“Bet a dollar to nothing Fog’s gonna do it.” Peter made a face that mashed concerned with incredulous. “Oh stop that, if anyone can broil grapefruit and get away with it, you know it’s Fog Burns. Skyler can’t cook, you can’t cook, and I sure as hell am not grilling some fake oranges.” He ladled batter into a pan. “Well hello listeners!” they could hear from somewhere outside the kitchen, “Guess who’s got a wet bottom today! Guess my forecast was spot on after all!” Fog’s radio voice followed up with the fact that now was the time to hit Wind River and Drano Lake for spring chinook.
“But Juno, now I’m wondering, what could the occasion possibly be?” Juno flipped around from the stove and pointed his spatula at Peter. Said man had the grace to put his hands up.
“I know that tone. That’s the ‘I am going to make a mystery outta this very inane thing’ tone,” said Juno. Peter Nureyev was the picture of innocence.
“Why, detective, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Juno squinted at him and turned to flip a flapjack. That man would make a mystery out of anything, and Juno was the detective. Skyler walked into the kitchen and stopped.
“I don’t know, but I have a terrible feeling,” ne said. Peter hummed and gave Juno a plate to put the fresh pancakes on.
“I suspect it’s because Fog’s show should be finishing soon. And they bought grapefruit,” answered Peter. Skyler blanched.
“Oh no , the bastard’s gonna broil it.” Fog, as if summoned, appeared in the doorway now clothed in corduroys and a busted flannel with paint up the sleeves.
“You all makin’ a fuss about me broilin’ some fake oranges like some kinda children. Cain’t believe it, ain’t none a y’all ever broiled an orange?” The folks in the kitchen shook their heads. Juno scoffed and untied his apron.
“Why would I bother doing anything with some bitter fruit,” he grumbled.
Fog rolled their eyes. “How’s it that I, a farmer and auto-mechanic, know about the miracle that is broiled grapefruit, and you all makin’ out it’s some kinda acquired taste thing? Skyler, get me that brown sugar.”
Skyler, dubious, got the sugar while Peter made a fresh pot of coffee and Juno got cutlery. In about five minutes, Fog had four grapefruit halves sugared, broiled, plated and on the table.
“Now you all can thank me and say you were wrong to be whiffed about my broiled grapefruit,” they declared. Peter, ever willing to jump headfirst into danger and also a person of refined palate, took a bite. He sat there, spoon in his mouth, for a moment.
“Juno,” he began. Juno looked over, very much worried. “If you don’t want yours, I’ll eat it.” Fog laughed and crowed in triumph.
“Toldja so!”
Juno, ever dubious but also a person who trusted the love of his life despite all odds, decided he wouldn’t die from eating cooked fake orange and went for it. That led to Skyler elbowing Fog in the ribs and eating neir grapefruit, so in the end two whole grapefruits were eaten, and Fog accomplished their private mission of getting good vitamins into their ‘people of the station’ crew.
By ten in the morning, a total of four grapefruits (eight halves), and twelve pancakes had been eaten. By ten-thirty, the rain had lessened enough for Juno and Peter to go home with whatever food Fog decided would keep them until the rain let up enough to shop properly.
An hour after that, Juno’s house had been swept and the laundry done.
“Nothing like a storm to get chores done, is there, darling?”
“Nope. Finally got the curtains washed too. Nothing left to do.”
“Join me on the couch then?”
“Sure, let me get my crossword.”